


Defying Gravity

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen is determined not to let history repeat itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defying Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as my stories "True North," "And the Water, Like Glass," and "Whistling Through the Graveyard" but NOT "The Aviatrix."

_April 18, 1912_  
"I'm fine! There are far better things for you to be doing with your time than doting on me." The nurse recoiled and backed away from Helen's bedside. Helen gathered the blanket closer around her shoulders and closed her eyes. She still felt wet, still felt cold, despite being fished from the water days ago. The officials insisted that all the survivors remain in hospital until they were completely cleared. It was maddening, to sit and do nothing as if she had been one of the casualties. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, trying to stave off the incipient headache.

"There you are, Maggie." The familiar voice wafted over the complaints of the other patients. Helen opened her eyes and looked up to see Molly Brown making her way over. She was dressed in her own clothes, rather than the hospital gown Helen was still forced to wear. "I've been looking all over this place for you."

"Molly, thank God."

Molly took Helen's hand and squeezed. "You doing okay, darlin'?"

"Better now. I'd be even better if I could get out of this damnable place."

"Well, all you have to do is ask. Let me help you to the sun room so you can get a change of scenery. Do you have anything you don't want to leave behind?"

Helen took her satchel from beside the bed and looped the strap over her shoulder. She let Molly help her up, and the two of them walked out of the ward together. The nurses were too occupied with the truly ill to pay much attention to them. Helen glanced back and whispered to Molly, "How long will be in the sun room?"

"Long as you want." She winked, and Helen smiled and tightened her arm around Molly's.

They walked out of the hospital together and Molly escorted Helen into the backseat of the waiting car. "Take us somewhere to have a meal, Jeffrey. Anything but seafood."

The chauffeur nodded and pulled away from the curb.

"Don't worry, Maggie. I'll get you something to wear before we go inside."

Helen sagged against the seat and closed her eyes. "Thank God you came when you did. I was about to go mad."

"I couldn't leave my girl rotting away in that place. Happy to save you once again."

Helen laughed and put her hand on Molly's knee, squeezing it briefly before she turned to look out the window.

"Did you hear what happened back in England, day after we hit the water?"

Helen braced herself for bad news. "God, nothing horrible I hope?"

Molly shook her head. "Something kind of amazing." She unfolded a newspaper and showed Helen the story. "It kind of got bumped by our little adventure in the North Atlantic, but it's still somethin' to read about."

"First woman to cross the English Channel. My God." Helen took the paper and looked at the photographs. "In _that_ contraption?"

"And a wing and a prayer." Molly was reading the article again over Helen's shoulder. "I was just wondering when I read it. You know, when we were in the lifeboat, and you were telling me about those Abnormals you work with. I was thinking maybe she had to be something... special."

Helen nodded. "Special, yes. But that doesn't necessarily mean she's an Abnormal. Thank you for this, Molly. I'll have to investigate once I return to England."

"Hopefully you're not going any time soon."

Helen smiled and leaned across the seat to kiss Molly. Their relationship was fleeting, and she knew they both could already feel the pull that would eventually separate them. But that didn't mean they had to act like things were already over. Molly broke the kiss and glanced toward the front of the car. "Keep those eyes forward, Jeffrey."

"Yes, ma'am." Helen heard the amusement in the driver's voice as Molly leaned back and pulled Helen to her. Helen smiled into their kiss and decided there were certain strategic advantages to still wearing her hospital gown.

 _May 1925_  
The whole of the airfield was between Helen and the hangar, so she was able to watch the pilot's approach for a long while. She finished examining the wing of the plane and moved to the front, running her hand along the blade of the propeller. It seemed so massive, and the plane seemed so sturdy, but she couldn't help but fret. She was reminded of the last time she'd seen a woman climb into a plane, and she worried.

"What are you looking for exactly?"

Helen turned as the pilot approached. She moved like a man, shoulders back and hands in her pockets so that her elbows stuck out. She was squinting into the sun, so it was hard for Helen to decide if she was smiling or not. Helen dropped her hand from the machine and pulled off her glove to offer it to the pilot. "Helen Magnus."

"Amelia Earhart. Nice to meet you. Care to tell me what you were doing groping my plane?"

Helen had to smile at that. "Sorry, I was just... examining it. The idea of a woman taking to the sky is... is..."

"Inspiring?"

"Terrifying." Amelia furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to..." She turned her back to Amelia and looked at the plane. "The field of aeronautics is unfortunately and inextricably tied to tragedy in my mind."

Amelia stepped forward to stand beside Helen, staring at the plane with the same intense gaze as Helen. She pursed her lips, nodded, and then tapped Helen on the elbow. "Well, all right. C'mon."

"What?"

"I'm going to take you on a trip around the state."

Helen pulled her arm away. "You most certainly are not."

"I have over two hundred hours of solo flying, Miss Magnus. Planes are the wave of the future, and you're gonna have to get in one eventually. Now you can either do that with a man who _may_ know what he's doing, or you can do it here. You won't have to worry about being afraid with me, or hiding that you're afraid. I'll take care of you."

Helen looked at the plane again and took a steadying breath. She stepped forward and said, "How do you get onboard?"

 _April, 1928_  
All of their conversations seemed to take place at airfields, standing in the shadow of the increasingly sturdy machines Amelia used to travel the skies. It was late afternoon and Amelia was moving around the plane, running her hands along its lines and curves as if she could feel problems with the machine just by a touch. Helen followed a few paces behind, her hair darker than it had been on their last meeting. They were both wearing leather jackets, but Amelia also wore a black man's necktie that whipped around her neck in the wind.

"I'm not going to think about it just because you keep standing there, Helen."

"You don't have to be the first." Helen stuck her hands in her pockets. "Why do you always have to blaze the trail?"

"Because no one else is going to do it. And where's the fun in following in someone else's footsteps? Uh-uh. They offered this to me, and I'm not going to turn it down. Even if I am just filling in marks on a notebook, I'm going to be on that plane when it crosses the Atlantic."

Helen shook her head. "You'd be cargo. Nothing more than a sack of potatoes being ferried from one place to another. Where is the honor in that? Where is the thrill?"

"The thrill is in doing it. People will know who I am because of this, Helen. It'll make it possible to do so many other things in the future. Maybe a solo flight."

"You are _not_ making a solo Atlantic flight."

Amelia finally turned to face Helen. "I know you're older than me, no matter how you look, but I know for a fact you didn't give birth to me."

"Be that as it may, you are taking far too many risks for the sake of celebrity and fame."

"Not for me. Never for me. I do it for those little girls who look at the newspaper and see a woman sitting in an airplane and think, 'hey, if she can do it, then so can I.' That's who I do it for. You said blazing a trail? Well, how do I know someone else will if I don't? And how long will it take before someone else has the chance? I gotta do this now, Helen. I gotta take these steps right now instead of just waiting for someone else to come along."

Helen closed her eyes. "Fine."

Amelia stepped closer to Helen. "I know you're just worried about me. You think something bad is going to happen. I'll tell you what. When I get back, we can go on another one of our flights. Just me and you, a nice long flight over the countryside. I'll show you that there's absolutely nothing to be afraid of."

"With you, I'll take the risk. Just... come back."

Amelia winked and squeezed Helen's hands before letting them drop. She went back to her plane and continued her examination of its underside. Helen watched her and, as tears pricked her eyes, tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong once she was in the air.

 _December 2, 1928_  
Amelia stopped in the doorway of the hotel to take off her shoes. She wasn't even entirely sure what town she was in... no, that wasn't true. It was Chicago. She'd had that perfectly wonderful slice of pizza go to waste while she did an interview with some reporter from Des Moines. She leaned against the wall and massaged the arch of her foot as she tried to gather the strength to walk across the lobby to the elevators. And to think she wanted to fly across the ocean, when a hotel atrium was too much for her to bear.

"Have you got a Lucky Strike?"

Amelia looked up at the voice and smiled. "Helen Magnus. You know, when I was in England, every time I heard a woman call my name with that accent, I looked around for you."

Helen sheepishly lowered her head. "I apologize I wasn't there to welcome you. Pressing matters here in the US." She stepped back and held her hands out to the side. "What do you think of my outfit?"

Amelia looked her over. "Is that one of mine?"

"As a matter of fact, it is."

"I'm happy to endorse anything that makes someone look that good."

Helen laughed. "Ah, you're delirious. Why are you slumping in the lobby? Haven't they offered you a bed?"

Amelia nodded. "Of course they did, but they insisted upon placing it at the top of Mount Everest. I'm just biding my time until I have the strength to make the ascent."

"Running you ragged, are they?" Helen stepped forward and slipped her arm around Amelia's waist. Amelia gratefully slumped against her, letting Helen half-drag her to the elevators. "It's almost over. And when you can finally sit down and rest again, you'll be able to look back with a sense of great accomplishment."

Amelia nodded. "A little girl told me today that she wanted to be a pilot just like me."

Helen smiled and pressed the elevator button. "See? Reaching one child will make it all worth while."

"I've met that child. Can I skip the rest of the tour?"

Helen laughed and helped Amelia into the elevator car. "What floor?" Amelia pressed the button herself and sagged against Helen's side.

"I'm just going to fall asleep right here, if that's okay."

Helen laughed and kissed Amelia's forehead. As the elevator lifted them to the fifth floor, Helen said the words she'd been rehearsing all day. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to belittle your accomplishment or suggest that you weren't capable. Your flight was amazing and impressive, and I'm certain you will make the solo flight. As much as I am afraid, I am also in awe of you, Amelia."

Amelia's voice was shy and quiet when she finally spoke again. "I don't know how to respond to that, so I'm just going to pretend I was asleep."

Helen smiled as the elevator doors opened. "Okay."

Amelia's feet were feeling good enough that she was able to walk to her room under her own power, but she kept her arm around Helen's waist until after she unlocked the door. "You got me here, so you might as well come in and have a drink. If you've got the time, of course."

"For you, I shall make the time." Helen followed Amelia into the room, moving straight to the window to look out at the city below. Amelia looked past her to confirm that it was indeed Chicago. She shut the door and went to the mini-bar across the room.

"Everyone's making such a fuss because a lady climbed into an airplane and didn't get out for a long time. Getting me these hotel rooms, standing in line just to say hello... there's gotta be better things for them to spend their time and money on."

Helen turned her back to the window. "You're who they wish to be. You're doing the things they wish they could, but don't dare to do. You're an inspiration, and a hero."

"I'll just let them keep believing that. If it gets me money to fly, I'll be whoever they want."

"They want you to be Amelia Earhart. That's all you have to do."

Amelia poured two glasses of chardonnay and carried one to Helen. "Got that as a little gift when I checked in. Although I have to wonder if it's sensible to give a pilot alcohol."

Helen laughed and tapped her glass against Amelia's.

"So what brings you to Chicago, Helen?"

"Incredibly dull events, interspersed with things you wouldn't believe if I did tell you."

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "You might want to try me."

Helen smiled at her and lifted the glass. "Thank you for the drink."

"Of course." They each took a sip, Amelia keeping her eyes locked on Helen as she tilted the glass. When she lowered the glass, Amelia stepped forward and kissed the moisture away from Helen's bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, her lips there and then gone with just a quick brush of her tongue before she retreated.

Helen dipped her chin. "Amelia..."

"Your lips were wet. Just being polite."

Helen tapped her pinky against the bottom of the glass, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth before she finally raised her head to meet Amelia's gaze. "I can't. You're a..."

"A woman?" Amelia sighed. "I wouldn't have thought that mattered to you."

"You're a _pilot_." Helen put her drink down on the nearest flat surface, the pain evident in her face as she moved quickly to the door. "I shouldn't have come up here."

Amelia pursued her. "Helen, wait. Hold on a minute."

She caught Helen in the corridor, putting a hand on her shoulder and making her turn around. "What does being a pilot have to do with anything? I just wanted to show you I care about you. I think you care about me, too. I called your friend at the Sanctuary to see if you could join up with me on the tour, and they said you'd just left for Chicago. Was seeing me the point of your trip?"

Helen's eyes were wet with tears. "I can't."

Amelia put her arm around Helen's and guided her back to her room. She closed the door and sat Helen on the edge of the bed. She brushed Helen's hair away from her face and watched Helen. Her eyes were tightly shut, but the moisture was apparent at the corners. "Tell me what happened," Amelia said softly.

Helen opened her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. "I only knew her for six weeks..."

 _May 19, 1912_  
In person, it looked even more implausible. The aeroplane was a jumble of wood and canvas, strung together with piano wire. It looked like a strong gust of wind would scatter the pieces to the four cardinal directions any moment. The pilot was supposed to sit in a small basket between the wings, and Helen's stomach quaked at the thought of using this rickety contraption to rise even a few feet into the air. To use one to cross the English Channel made her stomach clench.

The pilot herself was impossible to miss. Harriet Quimby stood a few feet away from the plane with a large camera set on a tripod. She wore a silk jumpsuit colored purple, the material whipping against her body as she set up her shot. Helen was a few feet away when the woman lifted her head and smiled. "You there! Do you know how to use a camera?"

Helen blinked in surprise. "I-I suppose..."

"Fantastic. Would you mind?"

Helen approached, and Harriet gave her a quick refresher course in how to take the photograph. "The perils of working alone," she said. "I'm so fortunate that you chose to stop by! Just wait until I'm in position. I'll tell you when to shoot."

Harriet stood in front of her plane, twisting this way and that to make sure the plane was centered perfectly behind her. Then she placed one foot behind the other and turned to face the camera. She smiled and pulled the hood of her suit up over her hair. "Shoot me, stranger."

Helen examined the back of the camera. She had taken several photographs of her patients, but she was unfamiliar with this model. She snapped the photo as she had been shown, and Harriet saluted her. "Thanks a lot, ma'am. Now, in exchange, you get to say what you came to say. Not very fair, I know, but it's what I can offer."

"Thank you," Helen said. "My name is Helen Magnus. I wanted... I wanted to tell you..."

Harriet was fussing with the camera, but she looked up at Helen's hesitation.

"I'm not one to be impressed very often. But you have impressed me, ma'am. Your flight over the English Channel was awe-inspiring."

"Ah, so someone _did_ read the story. You finally got enough of the _Titanic_ story, eh?"

Helen raised an eyebrow. "You could say so. I was aboard."

Harriet's hands froze on the side of the camera and she looked at Helen. "Well, damn. I apologize for being so cavalier, Mrs. Magnus. It's just that the timing--"

"I understand. I've read about your attempt being delayed because of weather. And then to finally accomplish it... well, disappointment is hardly the correct word for it."

"No, it's not quite strong enough, is it?"

The camera was stowed into a carrying case, and Harriet motioned for Helen to walk with her back to their cars. "Don't worry 'bout the plane. Mechanic will take care of it. Now, what did you want to talk about? Just wanted to gush at me about flying? Forgive me for saying so, but you don't seem quite like a gushing type of lady." She winked at Helen over her shoulder.

"I don't know why I came, to be quite honest. A friend showed me your newspaper article after I got out of hospital--"

"Were you hurt?"

"No, no. Just precautions and overcaution. I work with extraordinary people every day, Ms. Quimby, but you are unique."

Harriet put the camera in the backseat of her car and turned to face Helen. "Hopefully not for long. Just because my story got buried doesn't mean people will forget. I did it. And soon, a bunch of little girls are going to see it can be done. I may be unique, but that only lasts until the second one like me comes along."

Helen smiled.

"I'm a journalist, did you know that? I have all kinds of hobbies that get overshadowed by the pilot thing. I write screenplays, and I've gotten a few of them made into motion pictures. I like to read and I do the crossword puzzle every Sunday morning. I'm a tribadist."

Helen tried to place that last word. "I'm sorry? You're a what?"

"You're not familiar with the practice of tribadism?" Helen shook her head. "Oh, it's a lot of fun. Maybe I'll give you a demonstration tonight. Have dinner with me."

Helen smiled. "I would like that very much. Will you wear the flight suit?"

Harriet struck a pose similar to that she'd taken for the photograph. "It's a bit gauche in private company. You'll like what you see, I swear. I'll find you this evening. At Barney's, say six?"

"Six is fine. I'll see you then."

Helen stepped back and watched Harriet drive away. When she was gone, Helen looked at the plane and shook her head. It was impossible for her to believe that anyone could get the contraption in the air, let alone travel any measurable distance. She shook her head and walked back to her own car, considering the last hobby Harriet had mentioned. Tribadism. She wondered if it required a special outfit.

#

Helen and Harriet dined in a café that served them despite a lack of escort. Times had been changing for a while, but it was fantastic to simply sit and enjoy a meal with another woman. Afterward, they stepped outside so Harriet could smoke a cigarette as they watched the traffic. "They think we're children. Can't be let out at night without some man standing beside us. I don't know about you, Helen, but I don't need a man to show me how to feed myself."

"Nor do I." Helen smiled and looked at Harriet's outfit again. "I should say that you were correct. I do quite like your outfit."

Harriet stepped back and spread her arms like a fashion model. "Do you? I'm so glad. I was afraid you would be disappointed I didn't wear my flight suit, but it's so hard to be inconspicuous when wearing a purple satin hooded jumpsuit."

Helen laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. "It is unique."

"Designed it myself. Can't wear a dress in the plane, and God forbid someone see me in a pair of trousers. So the flight suit is the next best thing. Quite comfortable, too."

"And you look very fetching in it."

Harriet turned to Helen and dragged slowly on her cigarette. "We're talking about flying again, you know. I thought tonight was supposed to be about other interests."

"So it was. But I'm afraid I'm not all that interested in journalism or writing of screenplays."

"They are both very solitary professions, it's true."

Helen stepped closer to Harriet. "So I did a bit of research of your other hobby. It was quite scandalous reading."

Harriet's lips were pursed around her cigarette as she took another drag. She kept her eyes on Helen's as she blew the smoke from the corner of her mouth.

"Will you tell the authorities? Have me committed to an asylum?"

"Take another drag of your cigarette."

Harriet did as she was told. When she started to exhale, Helen leaned in and parted her lips just in front of Harriet's mouth. Harriet tilted her head slightly, and with Helen's added breath, the smoke wafted between their faces like a veil before dissipating.

"To make a hobby of tribadism, one needs a partner." Helen shifted her weight to the other foot, resuming the respectable distance between them.

"Unfortunately that's the case." Harriet tapped the ash from her cigarette onto the sidewalk. She was flush and trying not to show it, whereas Helen could hardly hear her speak through the throbbing of her own heart. "Although I've found several firm pillows to be an acceptable substitute."

"Really? I've yet to find a pillow firm enough."

"I own quite a few."

Helen looked at Harriet. "Well, I would love to see them if you have the time."

Harriet's lips curled into a smile.

 _December 3, 1928_  
It was early morning when Helen finished the story. Her face was streaked with tears, but she was smiling. She'd relived her introduction to Harriet; only the happy times. Amelia rested her head on Helen's shoulder, stroking her arm as she waited for Helen to continue. When the silence continued to stretch, she lifted her head and slipped her hand into Helen's. "You don't have to tell me what happened. I know all about Harriet Quimby. I cried when I heard the news."

"I was there."

Amelia winced. "Oh, Helen, no..."

Helen closed her eyes, unable to stop the mental images from washing over her.

 _July 1, 1912_  
They spent their six weeks together mostly in bed. Occasionally Harriet would have to leave to fly somewhere or to do an exhibition. Flight, she explained, wasn't about fun yet. Mankind had only taken to the skies nine years earlier, so aeroplanes were flown to prove they _could_ be flown. Traveling large distances in a fraction of the time of a train or car, to step into a machine that could take you over rivers or lakes without the benefit of a bridge. The world had become much smaller, people just had to be convinced of the new reality.

One morning, Helen woke to find Harriet sitting at her bedroom desk. She wore a man's shirt, as she often did when they were alone. Harriet bought them herself, telling the clerks they were gifts for her husband. "His build is similar to mine," she would tell them. "Give me something that would look good on me, and it will work for him as well."

This morning, the shirt was all she wore. Helen admired the curve of Harriet's leg, the soles of her feet. She liked to sit with her toes pointed and her heels raised to expose the bottoms of her feet to the rest of the room. Helen rolled on the mattress until she could watch Harriet without lifting her head, her hair falling forward from her face in feathers.

Finally, Harriet turned and looked at her. "What color are your eyes? I know blue, but..."

"I was once told cornflower blue." Harried bent over her paper again, writing with charcoal pencil. "What are you writing?"

"A love poem."

"To whom?"

Harriet picked up a tissue and tossed it at Helen without looking. Helen laughed and tangled herself in the blanket before rising from the mattress.

"May I read it?"

"When it's finished."

Helen stood behind Harriet's chair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Then come to bed and interpret it physically."

Harriet turned her head and kissed Helen's chin. "I would, but I'm afraid I don't have the time this morning. Rain check?"

"If I must."

Harriet stood and turned to face Helen. She draped her arms on Helen's shoulders. "Don't _pout_."

Helen pushed out her bottom lip, and Harried caught it between her lips and sucked. "Brits. You're all a bunch of whiners." Helen reached down and swatted Harriet's ass. Harriet yelped and pinched Helen's shoulder. Helen let the blanket fall, pressing her naked body against the thin material of Harriet's shirt.

"Are you certain you don't have time this morning?" She kissed the corners of Harriet's mouth. "It's been ages..."

Harriet laughed. "I believe we only got to sleep about two hours ago."

"So you've been counting the minutes as well?"

Harriet rolled her eyes and slipped away from Helen. "You are terrible. I have to shower. Behave."

Helen walked back to the bed and spotted one of the tubular full-body pillows Harriet had shown her their first night together. An idea formed, and she crawled onto the bed and pulled the pillow to her. She straddled it, planting her knees on the mattress, and rested her hands on the head of the pillow as she began to rub herself against it.

The mattress squeaked with her movements, growing louder the faster she moved. After a few seconds, Harriet appeared in the bathroom doorway. She had unbuttoned her shirt, but it still hung from her shoulders. "You'll make me late."

"You'll just... ah... have to decide... where you'd rather be... ah... ah..."

"I've made a monster." Harriet dropped her shirt as she crossed the bedroom and climbed onto the mattress to join Helen on the pillow.

 _December 3, 1928_  
The hotel room was silent, save for the ticking of the clock on the nightstand. Amelia reached up and touched Helen's cheek, turning her head so their lips could meet. Helen didn't respond to the kiss, and that wasn't the point. It was comfort. It was a human connection when Helen desperately needed one. Amelia knew what had happened next all too well. The plane had lurched forward with no immediate explanation, tossing Harriet and her passenger out into thin air. They had landed in the shallow water of Boston Harbor, crushed by the force of the impact.

To think of actually witnessing such a horrific event, and to witness it happen to someone you loved... she couldn't imagine the pain.

"I am so sorry, Helen."

"People are going to leave me. I've known that for years; my friends, my lovers, my family... they will all pass on and I will be left behind. It's the curse of my blessing. But that was the first time I'd had someone torn from me. The pain was unbearable. And now I have met you, Amelia, and I see you taking the same risks. I feel like you're my chance to make up for not saving Harriet."

"Harriet is the reason my planes are as safe as they are. Her death is why I have a harness strapping me to the seat. So in a way, she's helping to save my life every time I take a plane up." Her thumb brushed Helen's cheek and, though she didn't remember starting, she didn't want to stop. "I don't know what you mean about your blessing, but I know one thing. You can't look backward, and you can't plan for disaster. You just close your eyes and fumble blindly in Now. Just deal with right now."

"I can't. My mind doesn't... won't work that way."

"Sure it does. What do you want to do right this minute? Without worrying about what will happen tomorrow, or next month, or twenty years from now. What do you want?"

Helen kissed Amelia. Amelia kissed her back.

When they parted, Amelia opened her eyes. "Helen, how old are you?"

"Seventy-eight."

Amelia nodded slowly. "You seem so... tired sometimes. You hide it well, but it's there."

Helen turned her head so that her cheek pressed against Amelia's palm. "May I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course you can." She kissed Helen's forehead, her lips lingering before she stood to find something for Helen to wear to bed.

 _May 31, 1937_  
Helen and Amelia were lovers for nine years. Between Amelia's flights and her job at Purdue, and Helen's work for the Sanctuary, they seldom spent more than a few days together every few weeks. Helen was the cause of Amelia breaking her engagement to Sam Chapman, but in 1931 it was difficult to be a single woman in the public eye. Amelia finally succumbed to the pressures and finally accepted George Putnam's proposal. Though married, she refused to become a doting housewife and her relationship with Helen continued uninterrupted.

The night before Amelia made her second attempt to circumnavigate the globe, Helen planned to spend the evening alone in her hotel. She knew that Amelia needed her sleep and she was determined not to be the cause of any further delays. She stood at the window of her hotel in her nightgown, holding the compass Amelia had gifted to her so many years ago. The needle was aiming to Helen's right, wavering slightly when she moved it.

Suddenly, inexplicably, the needle spun to point behind her. She thought the needle had broken, an ill omen the night before something as grand as Amelia's flight, but then there was a knock on the door.

Helen put down the compass and crossed the room. "Yes, who is it?"

"Me."

Helen opened the door, blinking in surprise. "Are you holding a magnet?"

Amelia stared at her. "I believe that may be the strangest greeting I've ever had. No. I don't... no, I don't have a magnet." She cleared her throat. "May I sleep here tonight?"

Helen held out her hand. "Apparently this is where you belong. Come in."

Amelia took Helen's hand, and Helen embraced her. They kissed as Helen kicked the door closed and pressed Amelia against the wall. "You have a big day tomorrow."

"I do. So let's give it the prelude it deserves."

Helen smiled and kissed Amelia again before guiding her to the bed.

 _July 18, 1945_  
Sanctuary business took Helen to New Zealand along with her new associate Máire. She loved Máire and trusted her implicitly. The girl was an Abnormal, one of the few who had been entrusted with a high level position in the Sanctuary for her actions during the horrors of the Blitz. Before they left, Helen traveled to a northeastern beach, standing on the sand and looking out at the waves that crashed against the shore. She took the compass from her pocket and held it flat in her hand, tears pricking at her eyes as she watched the needle spin aimlessly before settling on a direction.

She returned the compass to her pocket and took a calming breath. The sea air was cool and refreshing, and she felt like she could see for thousands of miles across the water. Somewhere out there, Amelia was waiting. Helen knew it, could feel it in her bones. She'd been missing for so long, but Helen could feel the truth. One day the needle would spin again, and it would point a direction other than true north. And she would know.

"And when that day comes, I'll find you, Amelia. Count on it."

Helen checked her watch and turned away from the water. Máire would be waiting for her. The day would come when she found Amelia, but that wasn't this day. All she could do was put away the pain of being separated from her friend and focus on the Now and hope it was enough to get her through until tomorrow.


End file.
